A year ago this thing seemed unassailable: a vast network of fortresses spread around the country. Huge and bulky structures jutting into the autumn skies, towering above the modest skylines of their towns. Foreboding roars came from them that could be heard miles away. They oozed and seeped money for a quarter out of every year, and that made everyone happy. It’s only when you get up close to these shiny new structures like modern Kyle Field that you can tell they feel a bit hollow. They’re solid enough, and new, and all that seems fine. But there’s something gone.
2020: The season was over before it began
